You Only Had to Ask, Michael
by alexi.grace.hoff
Summary: Michael goes into heat every five years- something he isn't exactly happy about, but he can't help his nature as a non-alpha. Everything is fine- the Apocalypse is on schedule, Lucifer is running free, the Winchesters aren't saying yes- okay, maybe things aren't going so well. But still- nothing too bad. Until everything goes wrong and hes locked in the Cage with Lucifer. An Alpha.


**I don't own Supernatural, this is just a random thought. That, you know, took like two days of on-and-off working on it to complete. Also my first time writing explicit slash, so review. Seriously, I don't think I did too well, but...**

Michael prowled around the edge of the Cage, keeping a wary eye on Lucifer where the younger archangel was leaning against a far wall and watching him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

He paced back and forth, unable to keep still with his brother's sharp pale blue eyes tracking his every movement. His huge wings, which were almost all pure white except for the shimmering silver accents and edges, flared wide in agitation as he finally turned on the other. The feathers were out of place, mussed, and still had centuries-old specks of grime and blood from long-concealment. "What?" he hissed, and new instantly that he shouldn't have retaliated when Lucifer smirked and pushed himself into a standing position, his own wings flaring in a dominant gesture. The Morningstar's were just as large, maybe even larger than his brother's, and a beautiful mixture of pale blue, light orange, icy pink, and grey- like a winter sunrise. _His_ wings were immaculate, just like the archangel himself, always well-groomed and taken care of to the best of his ability.

Lucifer pointedly looked at the undersides of Michael's wings, and the elder quickly tucked them back in. _Damn it_. "You're in heat, big brother," he told him amusedly, his smirk turning playful.

"What of it?" Michael hissed, backing up slightly.

A rush of air was his only warning before he was tossed back against the wall a few feet behind him and pinned there. His wings were forced outwards so that they weren't crushed beneath the weight, leaving them on full display. "What the _fuck_, Lucifer?" he swore, twisting and bucking in an attempt to get away they both knew was futile. In this position he had no leverage, what with his wings being flattened, Lucifer's powerful arms pinning his hands above his head by the wrists and his neck against the wall respectively, and his feet flailing at least three inches off of the ground and oh _shit_-

One of his brother's legs was wedged between his and pressing up. Michael let out a sharp gasp of shock at the rough sensation, the widened grey eyes of his true form locked on Lucifer's ice-blue. "What- What do you think you're- _oh Father-_ doing Lucifer?!" he exclaimed in outrage and surprise.

Lucifer's leg started to fucking _bounce_ up and down, and his younger sibling was just _watching_ him with a ridiculously calm but obviously amused expression that should have been _completely_ against the rules in this situation. "Ah!" Michael whimpered at a particularly hard hit, and couldn't help the way his hips bucked slightly.

"Are you _enjoying_ yourself, Michael?" Lucifer drawled, and, leaving one hand to hold his arms back, moved the other arm previously at his throat to trail downwards and play with the heat-sensitized inner feathers of Michael's spread wings.

"_Oh fuck-_ get off, Luce!" Michael growled angrily.

His brother's smirk _widened_ at that, and then a loud, pleasured groan was torn from his throat and his head flew back when Lucifer _tugged_ at the feathers in his hand.

And then he just stepped back, and was suddenly on the other side of the Cage. "As you wish, big brother," he called with a soft laugh, and Michael collapsed to the floor on his hands and knees, in an intense state of arousal and with his wings trembling and flared wide above him. "Oh no," he murmured. Lucifer wasn't going to give up just because he told him to. Quite the opposite, actually.

Typically in Heaven, his heat lasted about a week every five years or so. In that time he would lock himself away from any Alpha angels who could be tempted by his smell.

It was just his luck that Lucifer was an Alpha, really. And now he was trapped in the Cage with him, with no visible means of escape or privacy to be seen. Lucifer had probably smelt it the second his heat began, really. His irritation and the Grace-lined undersides of his wings had only confirmed it.

The next three days were absolute _torture_ for Michael.

Lucifer seemingly had infinite patience, which he expressed gladly. Every single time Michael turned his back he was _there_, trailing his long fingers over sensitive feathers and the pale skin of Michael's neck or arms. The elder had even tried to fight him _twice_, but in his tease-induced constant state of arousal and weakened reflexes both instances ended with him pinned to the floor with Lucifer on top of him.

The third try at battle Michael didn't get up again, and just lay there panting on his back with his wings splayed out wide and vulnerable underneath him. He stared up at the ceiling, his unneeded breath coming in quick inhales and exhales.

When he didn't rise after a few minutes Lucifer meandered over again, and stared down with a raised eyebrow and smug smirk at Michael's trembling body and need-glazed eyes. "Are you ready to give in yet?" he asked, kneeling down to brush a finger over the edge of Michael's jaw and smirking wider when the other archangel instinctively leaned into his touch. Then a thought came to him, and he voiced it. "Have you even mated before?" he asked curiously, and was stunned when Michael replied surprisingly strongly-

"Fuck you, Lucifer," he growled. "_No_ to both."

"Hmm," Lucifer sighed, and retreated again. "Tell me when you are, then," he told him softly with a mocking pat to Michael's cheek before he left.

Then he watched as his older brother weakly pulled himself up, his wings beating almost uselessly at the air, and dragged himself to a darker corner to rest. A small chuckle rumbled his chest at the sight of Michael so weak and needy because of _him_- well, him and the heat. But mostly him.

Michael had always made sure to stay _far_ away from any Alphas during his heat. He knew- in theory anyway- how being around one would affect him, but he didn't think it would be this _bad_.

Michael _ached_ for Lucifer's touch, and he was almost buzzing with the effort it took to restrain himself from pulling his body over to his silently watching brother.

Normally the two would do things like read, play single-person games or groom their feathers. All separately, naturally, because if they did anything together Michael and Lucifer would inevitably start to argue. And _that_ would just lead to unnecessary injuries and boring healing time for both of them.

If he could just keep his mind away from his younger brother for the next few days- or just stay away from him- he would be fine. Then everything would return to 'normal' again. At least for the next five years, when his heat would start up again.

Unfortunately Lucifer didn't seem to want to follow that plan of action- or rather inaction- and walked slowly over to him about six hours later until he stood above him again.

And _shit_ why did Lucifer have to be so fucking _close_?

Michael whimpered, knowing that he was dangerously close to his breaking point but unable to do anything about it. With a chuckle Lucifer slumped into a sitting position on the ground next to his sprawled-out form and leaned against the wall, looking down at him through burning ice-blue eyes the entire time.

Then his right hand came up and carded through Michael's shaggy almost chin-length soft pure black hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and the older of the two couldn't help but press into the seemingly friendly touch with a half-broken sound. "Ready yet, Mikey?" Lucifer asked, pulling up gently on the hair to force Michael to look him in the eye.

Michael couldn't respond in fear of saying 'yes' or 'please', so he stayed silent.

Which was the wrong thing to do, because that prompted Lucifer to pull him halfway into his lap- on his stomach/back facing him so his wings were completly out of the way- and fucking _pet_ him. And he couldn't protest either, because he knew it would come out as a plead for more.

But apparently with a lack of hindrance Lucifer was going to proceed anyway, because his hand had somehow gotten to the hem of his jeans and Michael was much, _much_ too tired and weak and aroused to even think about stopping him.

The button was popped, and the zipper unzipped, and all the while Lucifer's eyes were locked with Michael's. When his brother's hand slipped underneath the strap of his plain black boxers and lightly caressed his _achingly_ hard length, closing around it gently with long, cool fingers, Michael's eyes went wide and his hips jerked forward involuntarily. His mouth opened halfway, and just as he knew it would his attempt at making Lucifer stop came out as a broken _"Please, Luce-!"_

Lucifer stopped his light touches, and took a good look at Michael's broken, pleading expression. A satisfied smirk spread his lips and a pleased glint entered his eyes, and he murmured "All you had to do was ask, big brother."

With a harsh push Michael was sent sprawling onto a quickly conjured king-sized bed, his wings moving as he did to tuck under him with the roll and spread out once he was on his back. Michael groaned at the loss of contact, only to yelp when suddenly Lucifer was _there_, hovering above him, and his clothes had all vanished, leaving him naked as the day he had been created and completely helpless. "_Lucifer..._" he groaned, "_please?"_

Lucifer's fingers tugged his head up by the roots of his hair, and hte Morningstar whispered lowly into his ear- "_I'm going to take good care of you, Michael."_

Then he was gone, Michael's head falling back down with a soft _thump_, and Lucifer was kneeling between his legs and looking up at him through _burning_ half-lidded pale blue eyes and with a smug smirk. "You're going to love this," he said almost casually, like they were doing nothing but discussing the weather on the Earth, and whatever reply Michael had begun to form was cut off when Lucifer _swallowed_ him down.

"_Ah-" _he choked, back arching and mouth going slack and eyes wide in shock. Lucifer didn't let up, rubbing the underside of his cock with his tongue and sinking his mouth down even further until Michael hit the back of his throat.

He chuckled, and one of his arms came down across Michael's hipbones like an iron band to prevent him from bucking up as his body seemed to wont to do. Lucifer's other hand trailed underneath him, and to Michael's only half-comprehending shock ran around the rim of his anus. Michael forced himself up on his elbows, his wings flaring up and wide behind him so he didn't pin them down. They trailed over the sides of the large bed, the tips arching to rest on the floor nearly twenty feet off either side.

Lucifer pulled back, Michael's cock falling from his mouth with a soft _pop_, and the elder archangel whined at the loss. "Your wings are beautiful, brother," Lucifer whispered against the skin of his thighs, and then his suddenly slick and wet finger started to work its way inside of him.

He tensed up automatically, but forced himself to relax when Lucifer scolded him gently, "Calm yourself, Michael. Loosen the muscles."

With less resistance Lucifer began to work him open, gently stretching and adding another finger once he deemed Michael ready. Michael whined, tossing his head, and protested "_Lucifer_, I'm not going to break!"

His younger brother chuckled softly, and he was rewarded with a third finger being thrust roughly inside of him. Michael arched into the touch, gasping, and crying out "_Luce-!"_

The long fingers massaged his inner walls, pressing, searching, and then _curled_ upwards. Michael let out a shocked cry that was an obscene mix of a moan and a scream and it sent a thrill through Lucifer. "You like that, big brother?" he asked teasingly, ruthlessly pressing against Michael's prostate until the older but more inexperienced archangel was even more of a mess than he had been before and completely broken.

_ "Pleasepleasepleaseplease-"_ he chanted, sobbing out the words.

Lucifer laughed, and with a simple thought he was bereft of his clothes as well. Then the Morningstar, the Tempter swung Michael up and around, flipping his own body backwards onto the thickly padded mattress and moving Michael so that he straddled him. Michael looked down at him from the new position in shock, and tilted his head to the side slightly in confusion.

Long-fingered hands came to grip his hips firmly, and then Lucifer was pulling him down onto his cock, the thick, hard rod making him feel incredible, new sensations. Michael tossed back his head and _moaned_ long and low, his huge wings flaring wide behind him and coming forward to drape them in a silver-white canopy. Lucifer's own wings arched up from below, curling around the outside of Michael's and rubbing their feathers together roughly.

They just sat there for a few seconds, breathing heavily, until Lucifer bucked his hips softly and Michael got with the program. He leaned forward carefully, placing his hands on Lucifer's shoulders, and looked down at his brother with a wondering look in his glazed grey eyes. "Brother-" he groaned "-please?"

As if that was a trigger Lucifer shot into action, his hands gripping Michael's hips even tighter and his own hips begining to rapidly move up and down, in and out. Michael writhed on top of him, in a confused state of mindless ecstasy, and the Morningstar didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

He slammed into his elder brother _again_ and _again_ and _again_, and Michael flew backwards, his back arching up, his hands supporting Lucifer's, and his wide eyes locked onto the high-above ceiling of the Cage. Lucifer's name fell like a prayer from his lips, "_Lucifer, Luce- oh _fuck_- please, Luc-"_

"As I said earlier, Michael," Lucifer growled, punctuating each word with an even sharper thrust, "you only needed to ask."

And then one of his hands slipped from Michael's to curl around his cock, stroking it up and down, and any sense of anything Michael had was lost in a white-hot scream of his True Voice and waves of impossible pleasure as Lucifer's thumb grazed over the head. His muscles clenched around Lucifer, sending him into his own powerful orgasm with a roar that echoed off the long-smoothed walls and mixed with Michael's.

Michael fell forward, he had been tired before he began and now was even more exhausted. Lucifer's slowly softening length slipped out of him, and it took a simple touch of their Graces to their skins to clean up the mess. The older of the two curled up against the younger, seeking comfort, and the Morningstar gave it gladly, smoothing down Michael's ruffled feathers and caressing his head. Michael hummed, content for the first moment in thousands of years, and just before he passed out he murmured "I love you, Luce."

Lucifer froze, his eyes wide and surprised, but eventually he looked down at the vulnerable, temporarily weak form of his elder brother and his long-neglected wings, and smiled. "I love you too, Michael," he said softly, and allowed himself to slip into a light doze.


End file.
